I’ve returned to Tisarana Buddhist Monastery, located in rural Ontario, Canada. It has been somewhat of a refuge here. While I’ve been interacting with the monastics and guests here to some degree, I’ve had a lot of time on my own. I’m staying in a kuti (a small cabin), and it’s been wonderful to have a bit of privacy and seclusion again. I’m finding I’m enjoying my own company more than I have in the past.
The scenery here has been gorgeous. Changing leaves, fall colors, and amazing sunsets on the nearby lake. I’ve had time to do some walking and kayaking as well as formal meditation practice. I’ve also had time to look at the changing nature of things, and to be more at peace with it. The sun sets and the moon rises, filling the sky with silvery light. The falling leaves make way for spring’s new growth. Change isn’t always a bad thing.
All the things that we find ourselves clinging to, both positive and negative, can change. And we can be better off for it. Sometimes losing what we think is ours, beloved or pleasing can make room for new growth.
So I’ll be here for another month, enjoying the changing season.
For the last few months I’ve been back at Harnham Monastery, nestled in the gently rolling hills of Northumberland, England. Sheep and cows graze upon green fields, and the sun plays hide and seek between the clouds (mostly hiding). The monastery is smaller in space than other monasteries, and the area around it is quiet (except for the cows and sheep).
I came here to support a friend, but I’ve been supported here in learning much about myself and Buddhist practice. While there were no great bolts of insight, I did see into a few things in a slightly clearer manner.
First was dealing with loneliness. A lot of time to myself initially left me seeking distraction to fill the time alone. Theres not much distraction available at a monastery: No music, no tv, no eating after noon. I started doing a lot of walking. While this helped some (and also helped me lose ten pounds in the process), being with the loneliness, feeling it in the body and offering compassion seemed to help the most. I’m still learning.
It wasn’t all loneliness, and interactions with others became another practice. It’s funny how even platonic relationships can throw a mirror in your face and show you where your rough edges are. Previously unnoticed aspects of yourself and habits are revealed. “Really? Have I been doing that all along?” It’s a process that never ends, I think.
Also was the realization that there is no ideal time in the future when I’m going to “really get on with my practice”. The time is now, and the practice is happening right now, whether I “really get down to it” or not. At least that’s the feeling I have these days. To paraphrase John Lennon, practice is happening while you’re busy planning your practice.
Yes, there were other lessons as well. Some I’m still processing, some personal, and some that just don’t lend themselves to being blog topics. For as much time as I spent here, I suppose this blog entry is pretty short. Much of what goes on at monasteries doesn’t seem exciting in the standards of the world outside, but I assure you it was time well spent.
So enjoy some of the pictures below, and may your own lessons continue in a beneficial way.
I’ve just left Tisarana Buddhist Monastery in Perth, Ontario, after finishing the winter retreat period plus another month.
When I arrived, it was a typical Canadian winter. Slowly I watched the icy and snow capped landscape gradually thaw and transform into spring. By the time I left, the lakes had thawed, the trees were budding, and the grass was an electric green.
The retreat itself went well. Perhaps not in a way of deep concentration, but insights nonetheless. When you spend day after day with a handful of people on a regular basis, the experience becomes a giant mirror on your interpersonal habits. How do you respond in a skillful way (hopefully) when someone pushes your buttons? And you also find how you push other people’s buttons as well. How does each situation feel? Where is the suffering? When all our usual distractions are removed, habits become more obvious.
For example, while I love alone time, if I’m around other people, there’s a tendency for me to talk. Sometimes a lot. I was able to look at this and see where it came from, and when it causes difficulty. Am I now quiet and reserved? Hardly. But there is at least a new awareness around it. And also an awareness that it’s not always a bad thing in some situations, and not necessarily a problem unless I make it one. So there’s a bit of acceptance as well. I’m willing to call it progress.
Amidst all this personal work was time making new friendships and strengthening old ones. The community of monks and lay people here is quite a warm, welcoming group, and one I feel comfortable returning to.
It’s a long story, but tonight I’m headed back to England to Harnham Monastery, which I visited last year. I’ll still have limited internet, but will try to post again from there.
Morning time, and all is quiet, except for the sound of my boots, crunching through the snow.Wind blows cold, making the -14C (10F) seem much colder. It seeps through my thin cotton pants, reminding me that another bottom layer would have been a good idea.
I choose a quiet road, where no vehicles have been since last night’s snow. The animals have been busy here however, and I see footprints of deer, rabbits, foxes and coyotes. Snow still covers the branches of the trees, unmelted as of yet by a sun that’s shining through a thick curtain of clouds.
I reach a nearby lake, still frozen to some degree, but not enough for me to comfortably test. I stop to enjoy the immensity of the frozen form, the enticing islands in the middle of it. To enjoy the quiet. The vastness.
Walking back, I hear a conversation between two old trees, creaking and moaning as they sway in the wind.
“Oh, my joints ache”
“Oh, me too. And my lumbago is acting up: I got no rest last night!”
“Yes, I heard you groaning all night”
I return to the monastery, where the guests stay in a beautiful old farmhouse. It’s my quiet day, on which I have no responsibilities, other than to take time to be present and enjoy the space, and spend time with the mind.
The six of us here have the pleasant task of keeping the monastery running while the monastics and long term lay residents are on retreat. It’s not an onerous job by any means, and we have plenty of quiet time as well. It’s a lovely bunch of people to be with, and a wonderful, peaceful place.
**Just as a side note, there is very limited internet time here, so I’m not following blogs while I’m here. So if I haven’t “liked” or commented on your posts lately, it’s not personal. I’ll be back into the blogging world in May. Maybe.
During my recent travels, for the most part I was removed from American politics. I could watch what was going on in both the American and local (wherever I was at the time) political arena as an outsider, which lent itself to equanimity.
I can’t say that I was that involved before I left, but I could certainly see a sense of self revolve around political events and my reaction to them: this leader was “bad”, this other was “good”. I liked some policies, others seemed misguided at best. That duality was somewhat encouraged by the crowds I was within. Not because anyone suggested doing this, but because we all shared the same opinions.
But finding myself in other countries, it was easier to remove myself from political views and opinions. Not that I didn’t have them, but their pull was not as strong. Events in the states were occurring halfway around the world, and without constant access to television, I heard less about them. Locally, not being a citizen, I had no influence over what happened, which granted a certain freedom. It’s easy to be equanimous when one isn’t directly involved (The Indian demonetization excepted).
I have to say that the equanimity was a relief. A freedom to put views and opinions at a distance and say, in the words of one of my teachers, “It’s like this”.
In the Buddha’s time, monastics were instructed to stay out of politics. The idea was that monasteries should be a place of refuge for those of any political party, and no one should feel like they wouldn’t be welcome. Also, there was a higher goal of maintaining equanimity and losing the sense of “this is mine, this is I, this is my self”.
And while I don’t fall under the requirements that monasteries do, I still would like to think that I could have positive exchanges with people of opposing views. That the practice of metta wouldn’t be limited to political party, and that all would feel welcome in my presence.
Even as a lay-person, equanimity is still a goal. So at first, when I returned, my goal was to stay out of the political world, holding on to that equanimity with all my might.
Yeah, that didn’t happen.
Thanks to a regular exposure to views and opinions from both sides, I found myself in a quandary. When faced with actions that can cause harm to a large group of people, is it fair to stand aside and do nothing? As a layperson, I have no precept or constraint to stay out of politics. So the question I’m facing is this: can one find a balance between standing up for what one believes to be right, yet maintain equanimity? Can one recognize and resist when harm is being done without holding to views and opinions?
I haven’t figured out the answer yet. I believe somewhere in watching the mind, and seeing what leads to suffering and what doesn’t is the key. It’s a work in progress. I suppose that’s why they call it a “practice”.
Before and after the trip to Wat Pah Nanachat, I spent two full days out and about in Bangkok. My hotel was convenient for getting to and from the airport, but not so much for to and from the main part of the city. That being said, it was easy to find my way around Bangkok by way of the metro system.
Like metros in other cities, Bangkok’s system has handy maps at the stations, and arrows all over to help you on your way. The cars are clean and the lines take you to most of the major tourist and other stops. Other than rush hour, it’s pretty uncrowded. During rush hour is every bit fitting of the image one can conjure of a crowded subway car. But in a humorous way, since the riders are able to go with the flow.
During one ride, I watched more and more people climb on. Those of us that were standing close smiled at each other, and although we didn’t speak, conversed with our eyes, saying “this is crazy, na?”. At each stop, it seemed like there was no way any more people could fit in the car. And then five more people squeezed in. Again at the next stop, and the next one. I never saw anyone stay behind at the station, saying “oh, forget it”.
As we piled out like lemmings, I made my way to the Grand Palace. Instead of one building, it’s a combination of more, and has been home to the successive kings there. It’s also the home to Wat Phra Kaew, where the emerald Buddha is kept. Sitting upon a giant dais, the emerald Buddha is actually made from Jade, and is 75cm high. No pictures are allowed inside the temple, but there is plenty to photograph outside.
The highlight for me that day was Wat Pho, the home of the reclining Buddha. Perhaps it was the absence of crowds, but even though I enjoyed the palace, I enjoyed Wat Pho even more. It was a peaceful, beautiful place one could get lost in, filled with all the ornamental gold and building finery you could imagine.
As evening drew near, I was on my way to the exit when I heard chanting. I went in the temple to discover about two dozen monks chanting parittas, aka blessing chants. I sat down and enjoyed the atmosphere for a while before twilight approached.
After I returned from Wat Pah Nanachat, I took the metro again to the river taxi, and rode along the river to the northern end of town for less than 20 Baht. There is a tourist boat that costs 150 Baht to hop on and off all day, or one can take a few individual trips. I went up and back, so it wasn’t worth paying for the tourist fee.
At the north end of town is an old fashioned market with all forms of food, clothing, and various trinkets. It wasn’t too crowded, and I really enjoyed wandering around, taking pictures of all the things for sale.
Looking for another similar market, I ended up in two rather upscale malls. While the malls were unique, I found the market experience much more agreeable.
The next day I relaxed at the hotel before going to the airport a bit early. Having waited all day in Indian train stations, waiting here was a breeze. Clean, quiet, and with lots of stores and restaurants, I had no difficulty just hanging out. Once I got through security and customs, I was amazed and even a bit overwhelmed with the number of shops available.
And thus began my 24hour trip to get home. I arrived two days ago, and am still a little jet lagged. But I must say it feels good to be back. I’ll be staying in rural Pennsylvania with my folks for a while, then staying at a monastery in Canada for a few months (yes, I’m going to freeze my….off). While I enjoyed this trip for the most part, it’s been a bit long. Traveling can be fun, but long haul travel is an excellent opportunity for seeing the value in putting down roots.
And so I will trust in the universe to show me where to plant myself.